Here's Looking at You
by lissianne
Summary: Flirty and fun with a dash of snark provide the perfect recipe for Sharon's dinner with bad boy, Andy (complete with toothpick).


I own nothing of Major Crimes. I just borrow the characters from time to time.

Here's Lookin' at You…

Three hard knocks in rapid succession jolted me from deep concentration. Before I had time to lift my eyes from the case files in front of me or utter the words, "go away," Andrew Flynn opened the office door and leaned back against it as he closed it behind him.

Slightly irritated at the interruption, I asked, "Lieutenant Flynn, what do you need?"

Adjusting his toothpick in his mouth with his tongue, he stood in front of my desk. "What I need, Captain Raydor, is for you to have dinner with me tomorrow night."

I leaned back in my chair and looked him up and down for a moment. Brash move, I thought, considering most of my male colleagues and even some female ones too, avert their eyes and scamper away whenever I appear. "You do realize I am your superior officer."

He leaned forward on my desk, "oh, but ma'am, this will be completely off the clock."

"So, you're asking me out… on a date?" I felt a spread of warmth across my cheeks and hoped it wasn't noticeable.

"I'm asking you to dinner, we can see if it develops into a date." He arched a brow.

His eyes never left mine when he spoke. I couldn't help but notice a slight curve to his lips as the last syllable hung in the air. Cocky, I thought, standing there in his grey three-piece suit and pale purple shirt. All he needed was a gray fedora ala Humphrey Bogart to complete the scene. "I'll pick you up at 7," he said.

I was still lost somewhere in Casablanca, when without thinking I muttered, "okay…wait, what?" Regaining my bearings in the moment, I quickly added, "I believe I've yet to accept your invitation."

Andy smiled that lop-sided smile of his as he repeated, "I'll pick you up at 7."

I let out a deep breath, "okay, fine. Let me know where and I will meet you."

By now, Andy had his hand on the doorknob, he turned slightly toward me, "oh, but a gentleman always picks up the lady." I thought I saw a subtle wink when he added, "and I am quite the gentleman."

I stared at the door long after it shut behind him and thought, who does he think he is? If he thinks he can do that whole eye thing and throw in a couple well placed sexy smirks and have me like putty in his hands, he had better think again. Wait, I said sexy? I totally meant smart ass… smart ass smirks… that's what I meant. I mean the nerve of that guy, I'm his boss for Pete's sake. I'm sure he just sees me as a challenge… Well, Lieutenant, if it's a challenge you want, my red Jimmy Choo's and I accept the challenge.

After a good night's sleep, morning light had me coming to my senses. What possessed me to say yes? Though, technically, I never did officially accept his invitation. Maybe I should just cancel, but would that mean he won? Was there even a competition? I'm not cut out for this. It's Saturday, we have no case. I'm perfectly comfortable in my yoga pants, I don't have to comb my hair, and I certainly don't have to make small talk with another human being.

After a trip to the spa for a fresh hair style and a mani/pedi, I must admit I was more up for going out. I looked in my bathroom mirror. It was a different style for me, a side part and soft waves. I pulled out my DVF wrap dress. It was a perfect little black and red number and depending on my mood, I had the perfect black or red Jimmy Choos to go with it. It definitely felt like a red night. I was about to close my closet, when I spied a black dress I'd bought on a whim from a little vintage wear shop.

It was a forties style half sleeve wiggle dress with a small red rose on the shoulder. It would be a perfect complement to my new hair-do. Ever since yesterday, with Andy going all Bogart on me, I was lost somewhere in another era.

At 10 till 7, I slipped on my red heels with the ankle strap and brushed a light coat of red color across my lips just as my doorbell rang. "Game on."

At the door I wasn't prepared for what I saw. I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this. Andy greeted me, wearing a black three-piece suit, a crisp white shirt, and a red, white and black pin striped tie. He topped it off with a black trench coat, once again, all that was missing was a fedora set just so across his brow. We have this uncanny way of color coordinating our clothing…even at work.

He not so subtly slowly looked me up and down, much like I eye a piece of dark chocolate dusted with sea salt. I heard him whisper, "damn" under his breath. I suppose that is a Flynnism for "my, you look lovely tonight."

He was saying something about bringing a coat, when I managed to stop staring at him long enough to pick up my Armani trench coat and red purse.

Andy hadn't said where we were going and when I asked, he only said, "I hope you're hungry." In the car I tried to bring up some new information about a case, just to make small talk, but he quickly replied, "we're completely off the clock, remember?"

There was that damn smirk again, "of course I remember," I said giving him a side eyed glance.

We came to a stop in front of Guido's, one of the most exclusive Italian restaurants in all of LA. The waiting list was months long for a reservation. It was then I realized what he meant by just dinner. Evidently, his planned date for this evening fell through, and I was the back-up plan. I felt both relieved and maybe slightly disappointed. As the valet parked the car, Andy offered me his arm and in a most gentlemanly manner, escorted me to the door.

There were a few couples waiting to be seated a head of us when the young lady dressed in a white silk blouse and black pencil skirt asked for the name on the reservation.

"I don't have a reservation," Andy casually stated.

The woman looked somewhat aghast, "I'm sorry, you must have a reservation."

I looked around the room, Judge Richwood and his wife were dining in the corner, one of Gavin's associates seated to my right, nodded a "hello." I quickly whispered to Andy, "it's okay, we can come some other time." I hoped we could escape unnoticed with as little embarrassment as possible. I felt bad for Andy. Hopefully, we could make a subtle exit.

Andy patted my arm and said to the woman, "I need to speak to Guido."

"That isn't possible, sir." The woman voice was touched with annoyance, "I'm afraid if you don't leave quietly, I'll have to call the police."

Andy smirked as he said, "Well, isn't this your lucky day? I am the police."

I lightly tugged on his sleeve and said, "Andy, let's just go. It's fine."

"Look, you can bring Guido to me, or I'll go find him myself… your choice." Andy's agitation was evident and people were beginning to notice.

From behind the flustered woman, a voice rang out in a thick Italian accent, "Antonio!" He approached Andy, and gave him a kiss on both cheeks reminiscent of The Godfather. He looked at me, "Bella," he said boisterously as he gave me the same treatment. "Come," he said as an order as he led us through the restaurant.

We entered a suite in the back of the dining area. I stood dumbfounded at my surroundings. I felt like I was sixteen again and touring Tuscany at the insistence of my father, who said travel would be an educational experience.

I snapped my attention back to the fine-looking gentlemen still hugging and talking over each other in broken Italian. "I take it you're old friends?"

"Friends?" Guido asked shaking his head, "Bella, Bella, he's like a brother. Without him, none of this would be possible." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

"Andy is a silent partner?" I asked, confused at what part this brash lieutenant had in one of the most successful restaurants in LA.

"Without him, I never would have become a famous chef, then a famous restaurateur." Guido gave Andy a nod and a hard friendly pat on the shoulder.

"So, Andy, you know something about cooking?" I asked, rather surprised at the notion.

Andy opened his mouth to answer, but Guido quickly interrupted, "He does not cook, he creates. The kitchen is his canvas, and the cuisine is his masterpiece."

I raised my brows and looked at Andy who gave me a shrug and a smirk. "You look surprised that I know my way around a kitchen."

"Well maybe… just a little," I replied.

"I know my way around other rooms quite well also… in case you were wondering." He motioned for me to sit down, "care for a drink? You look a little flushed." I could only imagine his skills as I sat down and asked for an iced tea. "I suppose you are a gourmet cook," Andy said as looked over the top of his cranberry soda at me.

"Oh heavens no, but I know my way around a take-out menu... and I know the numbers of the best ones by heart." I replied proudly.

We sat at a table near the window overlooking the small garden filled with tiny flickering lights and illuminated fountains. At the far end of the room, two a leather sofas sat in front of the stone fireplace. The flames created dancing shadows around us. A large mahogany desk sat in the corner. Guido's office was quite impressive.

I played it safe and had the Chicken Cacciatore. As I ate, Andy motioned to my lower lip where I had a drop of the delicious sauce. After several attempts to capture it with my tongue, Andy took his forefinger and wiped it away then sucked it from his finger.

I think I may have bitten through my lip. I asked for another iced tea, extra ice and tried not to stare at his finger… or his lips. I heard the voice of reason screaming in my head. "What the hell are you doing?" I quickly shut her down. She's a boring old bitch and I refuse to let her ruin my fun… and I was actually having fun.

By the time dessert came around, I was much too full, but Andy insisted we at least share a Cannoli. It was filled with mascarpone with the edges dipped in chocolate and nuts. He sliced a piece with his fork and held it up to my lips. I swear I tasted heaven. A bit of the filling landed on my chin, and once again, he whisked it away with his forefinger. I quickly grabbed his hand and sucked the cream from his finger. I'm fairly certain I heard him suck in a puff of air. "Dessert is serious business," I winked and smiled.

An appreciative gleam filled his eyes as they came to rest on my lips. He leaned back in his chair, "obviously," he smirked.

Guido came back in at the end of our dinner. As we said our goodbyes, he kissed both cheeks again and whispered in my ear, "I should tell you, my name isn't really Guido." I pulled back to look at him. "It's Joe. Joe Davis."

I let out a muffled giggle, "I suppose eating at Joe's doesn't hold quite the same ambiance as dining at Guido's."

"Well, my mother was full Italian and my father was pure Bronx," he admitted, "we were just Andy and Joe from the hood."

"But you both made good, and I have a little secret too." I leaned on my tip toes and whispered in his ear, "my name isn't Bella."

He stepped back to look at me, then pulled me close and whispered in my ear, "to me… it is…"

I found myself between a couple of charmers and I was clearly in over my head. Andy helped me on with my coat and put on his own. Standing in the flickering light, I imagined the fedora set across his brow just so and my heart skipped a beat.

As we got into the car, he said, "You were pretty lost in your thoughts in there, care to share. I'll give you a penny." He pulled one out of his pocket and held it up to me.

I bit at my lip, "you'll laugh."

He raised a brow, "try me."

"I was imagining you wearing a fedora, like Humphrey Bogart." I rolled my eyes at myself and looked straight ahead.

"Well, Ilsa, here's lookin' at you kid." He replied smoothly.

Andy pulled into the parking garage and stopped, but neither of us made a move to get out. I looked at him, a silhouette with a toothpick in his mouth, exuding confidence, cockiness, sexiness, whatever it was, it pushed the limits of my control and I needed to get out of the car. "I'm sorry your original plans fell through, but thank you for dinner."

I had my hand on the door handle when he reached out to stop me. "Who says this wasn't my original plan?" I turned enough to catch his smile, then he said, "here, let me get that for you." He got out and opened my door. Taking my arm, he insisted on walking me to the door. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do," he said, "and I'm always quite the gentleman."

There was no arguing that point, but now I would have to face that awkward moment at my door. Do I say thank you and go inside, do I extend my hand, or do I pull him close and run my fingers through his silver hair while I stick my tongue down his throat? Strike that, no I can't do that…can I?

I fumbled for my key. He placed his hand on mine and took the keys and opened my door. "Would you like to come in for coffee," I asked, surprised at the words coming from my mouth.

He leaned against the doorframe. "Just coffee?" He asked.

"I'm asking you in for coffee, we can see if it develops into something else," I said as I took off my coat and tossed the keys on the table.

He was still standing in the doorway. "Mmm. Something else? What if I promise to wear a fedora, cook you a mouthwatering dinner and supply a messy dessert the next time?"

"Next time, who says there's going to be a next time?" I asked over my shoulder from the kitchen as I started the coffee.

I was thinking of other mouthwatering ideas as I heard the door close. In the growing quiet, I wondered if he had left, but smiled as I caught a melody in the air. I hummed along as he softly sang, "You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh, the fundamental things apply, as time goes by."


End file.
